


Like You'd See In A Movie

by angeoltaire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Long Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeoltaire/pseuds/angeoltaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based on a prompt from imagineyourotp.tumblr.com </p>
<p>Enjolras and Grantaire have been in a long distance relationship for a while and are meeting for the first time, and of course Eponine's there to mock them and film it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like You'd See In A Movie

“You're shitting yourself over this.” Eponine doesn't bother asking whether or not she's right; she knows Grantaire well enough to know that the pacing and the nail-biting and the tugging of his hair were the tell-tale signs that he was freaking out.

“Of course I'm fucking shitting myself over this, 'Ponine!” Grantaire half-growls, pausing to cringe at the slight bitterness in his tone. “Sorry. I just...this is important, y'know? I'm meeting my boyfriend for the first time.” He lets out a groan, dipping his head and covering his face with his hands. “ _I'm meeting my boyfriend for the first time. Fuck._ ”

Eponine sighs deeply. This ordeal was becoming almost as stressful for her as she imagined it was for Grantaire. “Don't worry about it. He already likes you. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise. Just...breathe?”

Grantaire huffs out a short breath in an attempt to satisfy her. “But what if I don't turn out to be everything he expects me to be?” He throws his hands up in the air, turning to frown at her. “And _please_ , put that damn camera away!”

“The camera's staying out, I'm afraid. Bahorel would _kill me_ if he missed this entirely,” she chuckles. “What time does your _boyfriend's_ flight land?”

“Gah, uh...six, I think?”

Eponine checks her watch. “Two minutes to go.”

Grantaire starts pacing again, this time faster. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. _Fuck._ ”

“R, there are children aroun-”

“I don't care about the fucking children! Oh my God. Fuck fuck fuck _fuck._ ”

That's how the next two minutes pass – Grantaire pacing in front of the row of airport seats, a continuous string of “fuck”s, “shit”s and “oh my god”s spilling from his mouth, while Eponine kept filming, the camera following Grantaire as he paced relentlessly.

The tension was broken a minute later by a voice that was neither Eponine's nor Grantaire's.

“Grantaire?”

Grantaire spun around, eyes widening. Eponine and the camera followed him.

“Fuck,” Grantaire breathed, his chest rising and falling dramatically. “Enjolras?”

The golden-haired angel before him smiled, a truly glorious smile that made Grantaire weak at the knees, his mind screaming.

Grantaire didn't know what he was expecting – for Enjolras' face to fall, maybe? For him to look Grantaire up and down and realise that maybe he wasn't attracted to him after all? For him to pause, shake his head and run away? Grantaire had expected the worst, at least.

But Enjolras did none of that. Instead he took a few careful and slightly cautious steps forward. “Hey,” he said simply.

That was all it took for Grantaire to lunge forward, reaching Enjolras in four strides and shamelessly throwing his arms around the taller man's neck. Enjolras weaved his fingers into Grantaire's thick, dark curls, letting out a sob as he touched his boyfriend for the first time. Grantaire buried his face in the crook of Enjolras' neck, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin there and holding onto him a little bit tighter.

“Hey,” Grantaire replied eventually, his greeting muffled against Enjolras. Within this embrace, all of the anxiety either of the boys had felt leaked away, replaced by a feeling of warmth and safety. They clung to each other for what felt like hours, happy and content and _relieved_. It was literally like a scene from a movie. Romantic, intimate, and disgustingly sweet. It was perfect.

Of course Eponine would interrupt.

“Sorry to, uh, break up this little mushy, disgusting public display of affection – and I am really very happy for you, by the way – but there's a cab outside waiting to take us home and I have a feeling the driver's gonna be super pissed if we keep him waiting much longer. You can finish the hugging and the crying and whatever back at our apartment.”

“Fuck you, 'Ponine,” Grantaire grumbled, pulling up from Enjolras' shoulder and shyly looking up at his face instead. He found that Enjolras was already looking at him, his crystal eyes swimming with tears. Grantaire blushed. “Fuck, Enjolras, are you _crying_?”

Enjolras nodded, laughing to himself. “I'm just a little shocked, that's all.” When Grantaire drew in a sharp breath, he added, “By how amazingly beautiful you are in person.”

“Oh my _God,_ ” Eponine whined, demonstrating a faked gagging motion. “ _Please_ , not in front of me. I'm starting to wish I'd have covered Bahorel's shift and let him come and deal with this instead. Gross.”

“Come on,” Enjolras decides, taking his hands out from Grantaire's hair, remembering his abandoned suitcase. He grabs the suitcase handle with one hand and adjusts the collar of his alarmingly red coat with the other. “Let's go.” Eponine lets out a sigh of relief.

As Eponine stands up from the seat she'd taken and gathers her stuff together, Enjolras bends down, presses his lips against Grantaire's ear and murmurs, “Because there's only so much intimacy we can share in public without being arrested.”

A shiver runs down Grantaire's spine, the corners of his lips turn up into a slight smirk, and he not-so-subtly brushes his right hand against Enjolras' left one. Enjolras takes the hint, lacing their fingers together and rubbing his thumb across the back of Grantaire's hand both soothingly and affectionately.

The couple walk on ahead, muttering nonsense to each other, too overwhelmed to think of anything interesting to say and too euphoric to even care.

Eponine walks a few metres behind them, the lense of her video camera pointing directly on them and zooming in on their joined hands. _For Bahorel's sake,_ she tells herself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Anna and Katie for your virtual squealing - I'm guessing that meant this was a good piece?
> 
> I'm really sorry for the dumb title - I literally had no idea what else to use.
> 
> Also, it's been a while since I've written anything just for the fun of it so chances are that this is absolutely terrible - the only two people who've read it besides myself are my two best friends so they're naturally biased. If it is crap, please just tell me? And maybe advice me on how I can improve? Thanks.
> 
> also, come say hi on [tumblr!!](http://angeoltaire.tumblr.com)


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